


a bit of a fixer upper

by triggeringthehealing (froggydarren)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Grumpy Derek, M/M, Mutual Pining, Skiing, Snow Storm, Snowboarding, Snowed In, Younger Cora Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 09:57:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11288886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/pseuds/triggeringthehealing
Summary: The Hale skiing resort is known for coaching skiers and snowboarders that have various levels of experience. Nevertheless, it's rare -- it never happened before, as far as Derek knows -- that Talia would decide to coach someone who's technically too old to be starting in competitive skiing or riding. On top of that, the kid comes in too close to the competition season, and suddenly the finely honed training system is threatened.The last thing Derek needs this close to tournaments is a distraction. No matter how talented or attractive, the kid that his Mom has decided to coach is going to be just that, and Derek is already unimpressed, before the guy even gets to the resort.aka The One Where there's a lot of snow, nobody builds a snowman, and Stiles is the distraction that Derek doesn't need.





	a bit of a fixer upper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [captaintinymite (augopher)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/augopher/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Art for "A Bit of a Fixer Upper"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11289069) by [captaintinymite (augopher)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/augopher/pseuds/captaintinymite). 



> So, here's my contribution to the Sterek Reversebang. The art is by the ever wonderful (and patient, amazingly so) [captaintinymite](http://captaintinymite.tumblr.com), and can be admired [here (AO3)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11289069) and [here (tumblr)](http://captaintinymite.tumblr.com/post/162197178922/my-entry-for-the-sterek-reverse-bang-2017-read). Hope y'all love it just as much as I do :D 
> 
> Extra thanks to [Tris]() for the emergency kicking out of my grammar crimes, [Jenn](http://jennthereaper.tumblr.com) for cheering me on while I battled with words, and [Eey](http://eeyore9990.tumblr.com/) for a very important spark of an idea ;) Ladies, you rock, you rule, you're awesome :D

“Someone’s gotta go pick up Mom from the airport!”

The rest of the house is suspiciously quiet, and Derek sighs in his spot on the comfortable couch in the living room. Laura’s yell made it very clear that it’s not going to be _her_ driving in the fresh snow, and with the lack of response from the rest of the house’s occupants, Derek figures that he’ll be the one who’ll end up “volunteering”.

He tries to stay quiet though, just in case Peter decides to go for the drive -- unlikely as that is -- or Laura takes it on.

“Flight’s landing in two hours,” Laura says more pointedly, this time from the entrance to the living room, looking directly at Derek.

He raises an eyebrow, refusing to move until Laura actually says that she wants _him_ to go and drive their mother from the airport.

“Derek,” Laura starts when she catches on to what he’s waiting for. “Der-bear, brother dearest,” she speaks with an overly sweet tone, the one she normally reserves for special instances of driving him crazy. “Would you be ever so kind and collect our mother from the airport. I would be so very grateful.”

“Why can’t you go?” Derek asks with an overly innocent tone.

Laura pauses, and Derek looks at her expectantly, a smirk tugging on his lips as he waits for what she’ll come up with as an excuse. Just then, Cora barges into the living room, ski boots in hand, neon pink socks a bright contrast to her black ski pants, She skids to a halt between Laura and Derek, and turns to her sister.

“Are we going? Peter said you’re bringing me to see Deaton before training,” she blurts out, like she doesn’t realise or care that she’s interrupting a conversation.

“That’s why,” Laura says, looking over Cora’s head at Derek. “Come on sis, let’s get going, before Derek decides to duck out of collecting Mom.”

“Oooh, Mom’s home today? Awesome! She’s way better at coaching than Uncle Peter,” Cora says, not bothering to be subtle, even though they’re all aware that their uncle isn’t too far away, and most likely within earshot.

Derek snorts, and sees Laura’s shoulders shake with laughter. It’s something that has been a cause of several arguments in their family. Peter won’t acknowledge that Talia’s approach gets better results, especially with younger skiers and snowboarders, and he keeps using Derek as an example of his success. There usually is someone who points out that Derek did most of his training alone, with very little guidance from his uncle. And in response to that, Peter stomps off in a huff, prompting Talia to point out his lack of patience, and refusal to accept criticism.

They wait for the inevitable outburst of indignation at Cora’s words, but the house remains quiet. Derek suspects that it’s because Peter wants to avoid a drive to the airport way more than Laura and Derek do.

“Fine, okay, I’ll go get Mom,” Derek finally relents when Laura glances at him again.

He gets off the couch and heads for the front door, shoulders hunched in defeat.

“Don’t take the Camaro,” she tells him when he’s almost out of earshot. “Mom’s bringing the new snowboarder, remember?”

Derek curses under his breath. He loves the Camaro, and tends to take any opportunity to drive it when Laura doesn’t monopolise it. She got it as a present a few years ago, with the condition that she lets Derek borrow it. It usually involves a complicated exchange of favors, unless she’s caught up with her own or someone else’s training session. But there’s no way Derek can fit Talia _and_ another person with full luggage in that car.

With a huff, he reaches for the keys to the Range Rover that no one likes to drive unless it’s absolutely necessary. It was their father’s gift to Talia years ago, before he left, but it’s way too big to navigate anywhere but on highways and in the forest. It does have space for luggage however, and with the fresh snow on the roads that’s still falling and unlikely to be cleared all the way to the Hale lodge, it’s a better option.

If questioned, Derek would say that he absolutely didn’t _slam_ the front door closed on his way out, and that there must have been a draft that caused it to shut with a loud bang.

The door can’t comment, after all.

He has plenty of time to get to the airport, and doesn’t need to worry about parking since he’s heading only to the small local one, barely an hour away, so he doesn’t bother speeding, and stops at a gas station to fill the tank. He still reaches the airport with almost an hour to spare, and the small arrivals board tells him that the flight will not be landing early. Derek heads for the waiting area and gets his phone out to text his sister.

[to Laura] _Who’s Mom bringing this time, anyway?_

Since she was only bringing Cora to Deaton’s -- their on-site physiotherapist -- he’s not surprised when she replies almost immediately.

[from Laura] Why, baby bro? You worried someone’s gonna ruin your slopes?

[to Laura] _Already dealing with you doing that, so no. Just wondering_.

[from Laura] *middle finger emoji* Some hot-shot riding kid she was asked to coach. Haven’t heard much about him yet, he’s supposed to be new.

[to Laura] _Since when does Mom coach kids?_

[from Laura] Depends on your definition of kid. This one just turned 18.

[to Laura] _And he’s new? Why’s Mom bothering with someone so far behind?_

[from Laura] She said he’s worth it. Supposedly he’s really good.  
[from Laura] I’m sure she’ll still have time to watch you fall on your ass as usual.

Derek doesn’t bother replying to that, since Laura is _wrong_ about why he asked about the newcomer. And the comment about his skiing is most definitely not worth any attention. He’s not stuck up, but he knows how good he is, the shelf in his room with trophies and medals speaking for itself. But newcomers tend to shake up the precarious training balance, and Derek’s not looking forward to having to share his space on the slopes. Or, if he’s honest, his mother’s time being monopolised by someone who hasn’t done what their family and other people they coached did -- began training at a young age, _lived_ for snow, skiing, or snowboarding.

He can’t imagine _not_ being on his skis, not training, can’t think of what else he’d be doing with his life if it wasn’t competing. Sure, he gets the rush of going down a slope, understands how it would feel to non-competitive skiers. They get enough of those during vacation season to make him know how happy people look after they’ve been out in the snow.

What he doesn’t understand is how someone who hasn’t honed their technique for years is supposed to be good enough for competition. Derek knows he’s very particular about his own training, but it _works_. It makes him great. It’s also a result of years and years of perfectioning his moves and skills, not just… showing up to train with Talia Hale and hoping to win.

By the time the flight info changes to “landed”, Derek has a ton of ideas about the new kid. A lot of them are unfavourable, and he's expecting someone who looks like the occasional rich kids who pay their way into the Hale Resort. None that he remembers lasted longer than a few weeks, when the rigorous training got too hard for them. So when his mother emerges from the arrivals doors, he's genuinely shocked at the guy walking by her side.

He's _young_ , but not a child by any definition. He's tall, even with just sneakers on his feet he has an inch or two on Talia, who's not short herself. In fact, because of the comparison to his mother, Derek knows that the kid is almost as tall as Derek himself. And he's most definitely not one of the trust fund babies whom Derek despises.

The guy is in well-worn jeans and sneakers, and in layers on top -- just from a quick glance Derek knows that there are at least three items underneath the puffy jacket. It's not the red hoodie or the graphic tee that gives away the lack of rich kid privilege, but the ratty-looking plaid that Derek knows no trust fund baby would be seen in. At least not in public.

As his mother scans the waiting area, Derek tries to stop staring at the new kid, so he turns to her and waves to get her attention. It takes a few times, and when she finally notices, he can't help but look to her side.

The eyes that are looking at him with amusement are big and bright, and Derek immediately frowns. It's not because he's wondering if the guy is laughing _at_ him.

The eyes might be attractive, but Derek is so absolutely not going there. Not with someone who's barely legal, who's his mother’s new charge, and who's probably not going to last at the resort anyway. Plus, there’s the fact that Talia is _right there_.

Derek glances back to her, and cringes at the amused expression in her face, as if she knows exactly what’s running through Derek’s mind. When their eyes meet, she smiles more openly, and walks towards him, then wraps him up in a tight hug, her bags left by their side.

“Hey, Mom,” Derek mumbles into her ear. “Good to have you back.”

“I was away for a week,” she replies in an amused tone.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t bring Cora with this time. There may have been mutiny. The house is still intact though,” Derek says, holding back laughter when he feels Talia’s shoulders start shaking.

“That’s good to know,” she says when she pulls away. “Peter didn’t accidentally get lost in the woods, did he?”

“Mom!’ Derek tries to look appalled at her question, but he bursts out in laughter when she tries to look innocent.

“Well, I see I’ll need to catch up on the insider jokes fast,” the kid by Talia’s side quips, and Derek’s mood immediately dissolves from amusement into displeasure.

“We’ll try to get you up to speed,” Talia says, and then she glances at Derek. “This is my son, Derek. Derek, this is Stiles.”

There’s a pause that Derek is pretty sure he’s supposed to use for some sort of acknowledgment, but all he manages is a nod. There’s a smirk on Stiles’ lips that’s throwing him off almost as much as the kid’s name. Stiles. What the hell _is_ that?

“Stiles Stilinski, your Mom’s new pet project,” Stiles says, still smiling as he reaches out a hand.

Derek shakes it politely, but he doesn’t mirror the smile.

“More like the new great thing to happen to the resort,” Talia does smile as she speaks. “Though Derek’s bound to give you a run for your money.”

“Well, I don’t really have any of that, so I’ll just have to be better,” Stiles says, and Derek takes it for the challenge that it obviously is.

“You did bring the Rover, right? We have these bags,” Talia points to the carry on luggage at their feet, “and Stiles still needs to grab his snowboard,” she says, already moving towards the side of the airport where they usually handle their gear.

“No, we’ll just have to fit into the Camaro somehow,” Derek deadpans, earning himself a slap on the arm from Talia. “Yes, mother, I did bring the T,” he says, referring to the nickname they all use for the Range Rover - _Tank_ , since it usually manages to drive through everything.

Talia nods, but doesn’t say anything more. At least not until they’ve collected all Stiles’s gear and lugged it all over to the car. And even then, she only comments on where things should go. It’s not a surprise to Derek, because while he knows his Mom to be sociable, and have impeccable people skills, she’s usually not talking too much. It does, however, seem to unsettle Stiles, who keeps opening and closing his mouth like he’s fighting the urge to talk over and over.

Not that Derek is paying attention to Stiles’s mouth.

Once they’re away from the airport and on the way to the resort, Talia and Derek continue sitting in silence, the only sound in the car the radio that’s quietly playing classical music. It’s Derek’s station of choice, but it’s something that he’s learned from Talia as he was growing up. The music always helps him relax, and when he’s training, focus on skiing instead of being distracted.

In the backseat, Stiles fidgets almost the whole way, obviously impervious to the relaxing effects of classical music. The energy that’s seeping out is putting Derek on edge, it’s distracting even when he can only hear Stiles shifting around. Because they only just met, he doesn’t say anything though, but he does roll his eyes when he parks by the main house and Stiles barely waits for the car to come to a full stop before he opens the door and pretty much falls out into the snow.

“Come on, Stiles, I’ll show you your room,” Talia finally speaks, an amused smile on her lips as she watches Stiles regain his balance.

Derek, of course, is left bringing in all the luggage. With a heavy sigh he begins carrying Talia’s and Stiles’s bags in, though he does leave the snowboard. He knows how particular _he_ can be about his skis and gear, and despite his wariness about the new kid, he doesn’t want to mess up anything about the set up and cause unnecessary trouble. It’s bad enough that he’s pretty sure they’re not going to get along in general, he’s not risking Talia’s wrath on top of Stiles’s.

“Derek!” Talia calls down the stairs just as he finally closes the front door behind him the last time. “Did Laura bring Cora to Deaton’s?”

“That’s where they said they were going,” Derek calls back. “It’s why I was picking you up.”

He waits for a response, but gets nothing but silence. A glance at his watch tells him that he still has time before he needs to leave for his training session, so he heads into the kitchen instead. He can linger for a little bit, clear his head before he gets his gear for training, put together a snack because all of a sudden he feels like going out after the usual session, out to the slopes that are for visiting skiers rather than for those who train there.

It’s not that he’s running away from people, but he knows that it’s precisely what Laura would say if she knew what he was thinking. Having someone new around always unsettles him a little though, no matter who the person is. And Stiles… well, Stiles looks like the kind of person who is not going to be overlooked easily.

“Oh hey, food!” Derek’s musing are interrupted by Stiles’ voice, proving the point of his thoughts. “So, how does this work? Do I need to go on a grocery run first? Is there a space I can store my stuff? I mean, I’m not super particular with my diet, but my Dad’s on a pretty healthy one because his heart’s not what it used to be, so it’s not like I eat crap all the time either.”

“No grocery run needed,” Talia responds, coming in before Derek can open his mouth. “We shop for everyone, it’s all covered in the fees. If there’s anything specific you want, just write it down on the list on the board,” she points to a cork board on the wall. “That goes for other supplies too, not just food.”

“Like, what kind of other supplies?” Stiles asks, trying for innocence and missing it by a mile because the corner of his lips is turned up and Derek doesn’t miss the glance in his direction.

“Not sure if you’ll have the energy for one night stands after Mom’s put you through her usual training sessions,” Derek replies, this time beating Talia to the punch. “But if you do, you’d better sort out your own _supplies_.”

He absolutely doesn’t revel in the way Stiles’s face colors when Talia chuckles. Not at all.

“Mom, I’m gonna go meet up with Peter,” Derek tells Talia, his snacks already gathered in a bag. “I’ll be back late, don’t wait with dinner, okay?”

He ignores the way her eyes narrow at him, and slips past her and Stiles, all too eager to get out. Yeah, having Stiles in the house is going to be interesting. Derek isn’t entirely sure if he’s ready for it.

-=-=-=-

If anyone asked Derek to describe the first two months of Stiles’s presence at the resort, he’d say something in the lines of “disastrous” or “torture” or “like a tornado in Manhattan”. Of course, no one is asking him, and he doubts anyone ever will.

It took Stiles less than a day to win every family member over--from Cora who bonded with him over snowboarding, through Laura who just finds him adorable, all the way to Peter whose thoughts Derek really doesn’t want to know. He caught _one_ conversation where Stiles countered and very clearly shut down Peter’s rather inappropriate comments--no surprise to Derek, Peter’s always been that little bit too forward--and it was already too much. Derek doesn’t need to _ever_ know anymore about anything that Peter thinks.

Of course, that doesn’t stop Derek himself from noticing things that he wouldn’t admit to paying attention to if anyone was to call him on it.

But he sees that Stiles is indeed talented enough to justify Talia’s decision. He sees that while there’s roughness to his riding, there’s also instinct that Derek has rarely seen, movements that come from _Stiles_ and not from rigorous training. Derek has watched him thunder down the slopes more than enough times since that first day, and he knows that Stiles has a bright future ahead. It’s odd that no one has picked up on the talent before, that Stiles hasn’t been on a snowboard competitively until now, but Derek doesn’t know how to ask the burning “why?” that’s been running through his mind since before Stiles even arrived.

“Moooooom, Derek rescheduled my session again!” Cora yells through the house one of the mornings, two months after Stiles’s arrival, a day short of two months since Stiles became her partner in crime for way too many pranks.

“I did _not_ ,” Derek protests as he lets out a defeated sigh.

He was planning to relax and have some quiet time, but obviously that’s not happening now that Cora is on a warpath.

“Then why is my session set for _after_ Deaton’s?” Cora asks with way too much anger for a person that small.

“I don’t know. Did you ask Mom or Peter? Maybe Mom’s busy somewhere else this morning,” Derek answered, trying to stay calm even though he’s tired of the ongoing arguments about the schedule.

It’s always Cora who protests loudest, but he can sympathise with her a little bit. They both grew up with the same habits, the same need for a steady routine, and they both get equally annoyed when something throws that routine off. Which has been happening more than before since Stiles arrived at the resort. The usual cause for the changes was Talia, with the excuse that because Stiles started so late, he needed extra time training.

“It’s your session that’s been moved,” Cora tells him, holding out her tablet to his face.

They’ve set up an online schedule, since it was the easiest way to let everyone know of any major changes in case of emergencies. Derek knows that he should be paying attention to the alerts, but he mostly ignores them, since no one tends to mess with his meticulously planned training program. However, that seems to have changed now, he realises when he looks over the time allocations.

“Why am I on the bunny slope? I’m… I just did drills yesterday afternoon, I’m meant to be…” he mutters angrily as he scans the schedule. “ _Mooooom!_ ”

“I’m right here.” Talia emerges from the kitchen. “I heard both of you clearly, thank you. Stiles needs to work on his speed more, and the poles were already set up. We’d just need to switch them twice with the original schedule.”

“There’s the other….”

“Derek.”

Talia’s tone is the one that usually leaves no room for argument. Derek knows she’s right, the slope that he was supposed to be on is the best one for slalom practice. It’s exactly why he had it scheduled. Which is why he opens his mouth to protest--it’s not that he _needs_ those runs, but he needs to run drills and power training even less.

“You know it makes sense,” Talia says, her tone still firm, but also understanding of Derek’s frustration. “You and Cora will have the run of the slope all afternoon. I’ve already told Peter to get the crew to switch the poles out during lunch.”

Derek huffs in defeat, and hands Cora her tablet back. They’re both still unhappy, no matter how logical the change is.

“I’ll go out the cross country trail instead, at least I won’t be in anyone’s way,” Derek says, not bothering to check if Talia heard him.

He’s pretty sure she did, because he hears her sigh quietly before she starts talking to Cora about the switches to her day. It doesn’t matter, he’s not looking for approval anyway, and it’s not all that unusual for him to go on the trail. It’s one of his favorites when he’s not on the downhill ones. It’s away from the public areas, and he likes it for that reason more than other trails. Their crew still maintains it in good condition, but it’s not an easy one, so most people don’t venture out there.

“Derek!” Talia calls out just as he’s grabbing his jacket. “Don’t forget the storm that’s due to hit overnight. Don’t stay out too late, okay?”

“I won’t,” he says quietly, and relaxes a little when she walks over, a caring smile on her lips. “I wasn’t planning on staying in the cottage.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, if you did,” she counters. “But I'm not sure it's stocked now; the crew wasn’t out there since last week and won’t be going up until after the storm.”

“I’ll be back around lunch, okay?” Derek tries to reassure her, but he can see her worry and hesitation. “Mom, I just… I need to get out for a bit. Away.”

“Derek….”

He shakes his head, and she nods in response. He knows that it’s the one thing that he doesn’t have in common with his sisters. Where they shout and talk, get their feelings out immediately, he needs to process for a while. And with the house that little bit more full--he isn’t sure, but he can guess that Stiles isn’t far away--he needs to get out.

Talia pulls him into a hug, then smiles at him softly.

“Okay. If you need the slope later today, let me know. It should be cleared and set up anyway, but if you need anything else but the poles….”

“I’ll call. I’m still on our land, just….”

“The quiet part, I know,” Talia smiles. “Now go, before Peter or Laura decides to tag along. I don’t think that would help.”

Derek shudders at the thought; he rushes out of the door, pulling on the jacket as he goes, door slamming behind him. It’s early still, so when he gets to the shed where all the less-used gear is stashed, no one is around. That suits him just fine, since he’s less than willing to engage in idle chit chat. Once he has his skis and boots, he checks the forecast again--something about his Mom’s mention of the incoming storm has him uneasy. There’s no indication of it hitting anytime before the night, and he should be back by lunch time, so he shrugs off the worry and sets off towards the lifts.

As usual, they’re already running. It’s not the height of the tourist season, but the lift he’s taking also services several other trails, and their resort isn’t entirely isolated. A few people are milling around and he greets some of the crew that also work at the Hale lodge and slopes. But he doesn’t linger, gets into the lift seat, and closes his eyes as it starts moving upward. There are a few places on the way where people can get off of the lift, but Derek’s isn’t until the top of the hill, where the chairs turn and head back down. No one else seems to be up that high, and Derek smiles when he clicks on the skis and wraps the pole straps around his wrists.

_Quiet, finally_.

The trail is covered in a fresh layer of snow from a few nights earlier, and Derek takes note of the areas which needs attending to that he’ll notify the crew of later. He glides through the narrow pathways between trees, recreating the tracks that the recent snow storm covered up. The crew will fix the other side, as well as the skate skiing path in the middle where the trail widens, so he just moves onward, towards the crew lodge that he’s planning to stop at.

When he reaches it, he has to shovel snow from the door first, but once he’s in, he sees that it’s stocked okay. For a moment he wonders if he should stick around longer, get a little respite from the noise of the main house. It wouldn’t be the first time, but he knows that he can’t. He told his Mom that he’d be back, and from up here the only way to reach her would be via the emergency pager.

He doesn’t think she’d appreciate the scare.

He opens the shutters on the windows, then he settles on one of the surprisingly comfortable couches, and closes his eyes. The events from the two months that just passed run through his mind, and Derek wonders if he’s blowing anything out of proportion.

Because he can’t deny that Stiles is nice. And he fits in with the family--maybe a little too well, when it comes to conspiring with Cora about things or chiming in on Laura’s jokes. And he’s _good_ , talented, worth Talia’s time. Not that Derek is at a point where he’d be willing to admit any of it out loud. Especially because he knows that Stiles’s time at the resort is limited, and he’s going to leave once whatever training that Talia committed to is finished. Thinking about that, Derek realises that he never bothered asking how long Stiles is there for.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when there’s a loud bang outside, and very familiar cursing.

_Stiles_.

Derek gets up fast, and takes strides to the front door, then pulls it open. Because apparently Stiles was leaning against it, and the door opens _inwards_ , Derek finds himself with an armful of Stiles.

“Shit, ouch, _hi_ ,” Stiles blurts out when he looks up, his weight still leaning on Derek’s chest.

He struggles to get back upright, and there’s a very noticeable tint to his cheeks.

_It’s probably because of the cold outside_ , Derek thinks, but his thoughts are unconvincing.

“Hi, so, sorry to interrupt your Cave of Loneliness time, but….” Stiles starts, and Derek immediately frowns. “Look, I just need some extra wax, and Talia told me about this lodge, so I was hoping to find it. Then I’ll be out of your hair and on my way, no need to worry.”

Derek steps back, waves Stiles in, and then glances at his snow-covered boots.

“Don’t drag snow in, it’s a pain to clean,” he says, already turned away from the door and heading for the supply closet. “And close the door behind you.”

“Oh, okay, I’m allowed into the man cave,” Stiles mumbles, his words punctuated by the sounds of him knocking snow off his boots at the doorstep.

“Not a man cave,” Derek counters, and he hands over the wax that Stiles was looking for. “And you can stay, take a break. Cross country gets exhausting if you’re not used to it.”

Stiles nods, and he’s looking at Derek with surprise that echoes his earlier words.

“It’s been a long time since I did that. And even longer on fresh snow,” he says quietly as he walks over to a chair. “It’s not an easy trail either.”

“No kidding,” Derek says with a frown. “What are you even doing up here? Aren’t you scheduled for the main slope this morning?”

He watches Stiles awkwardly shuffle his feet and then try to brush it off as shrugging off his jacket. He doesn’t answer for a while, and Derek keeps his eyes on him, eyebrow raised in question.

“I heard the argument this morning,” he says eventually. “Or at least the aftermath, I think, after you left. Cora kind of… went ballistic about the schedule changes, and how I’ve screwed up everyone’s system.”

Derek doesn’t react on the outside--or at least he hopes that his expression doesn’t change--but on the inside he’s promising to high-five Cora when he gets back. It’s not that he doesn’t like Stiles; he’s just annoyed with what his presence is doing to the carefully honed training system that the permanent residents at the resort have.

“Your Mom said you went on a cross country trail,” Stiles continues after a moment. “But I swear I wasn’t following you. I just… looked for a remote one. Getting out, and letting Cora have the run of the slopes seemed like the best course of action. She’s fierce.”

Derek preens a little at the praise for his little sister, and the corner of his lips curls.

“She is. It’s a Hale trait,” he says evenly, keeping his poker face almost intact, though he can’t hide the emerging grin. “I guess Mom didn’t warn you about that.”

“No.” Stiles shakes his head. “Should I expect you to continue where she left off?”

Unable to keep the blank expression any longer, Derek grins openly.

“That would require me knowing where that is,” he says. “You can tell me, if you want. Or I’ll hear it from her later, and you get a break now.”

“I don’t know, will it be worse if I wait? Because a break sounds nice, but if you two gang up on me later….”

Derek lifts an eyebrow again, still smirking.

“I would like to state that I’m sorry about all that chaos,” Stiles says, looking everywhere but at Derek. “I didn’t think… Talia didn’t say that me being here would be a problem. Just the opposite, actually. If I’d known….”

“You still wouldn’t have been stupid enough to turn down the opportunity,” Derek interrupts, the smirk gone as he watches Stiles almost physically shrink. “Mom probably didn’t expect that it would result in this many changes. Most of her charges are either younger or more experienced.”

Stiles finally meets Derek’s gaze, and there’s no way that the redness is anything but a blush this time.

“I’m still sorry for causing trouble,” he says.

“Sure,” Derek shrugs. “We’ll get used to it, don’t worry about it.”

“It literally drove you out on a remote trail in the woods, and you’re acting like it’s not that big a deal. Your sister threatened my _snowboard_ ,” Stiles bristles.

“Would you like me to yell at you?” Derek asks, feeling irritation seep back into his thoughts. “I thought you wanted a break from that.”

“No, just….”

“It’s not the first time I’ve come up here to clear my head,” Derek tells Stiles, and for want of _something_ to do with his hands, he reaches into the cooler nearby and grabs two bottles of water.

He hands one to Stiles before he opens his own and takes a sip.

“It was better than running drills on the bunny slope,” he adds a moment later.

“Is _that_ what Talia changed your schedule to? Man, I’m sorry, I know you did those yesterday,” Stiles blurts out, and then his cheeks color crimson again. “I mean….”

“Weren’t you on rest yesterday?” Derek asks, curious as to how exactly Stiles saw him, when he was supposed to be inside all day.

Talia has strict rules about days off. Derek vividly remembers when he and Laura were younger, in school, and thought that when they had days off in the middle of heavy training, it meant they could do whatever they wanted. In Talia’s rule book, a day off meant no skiing, no exercise, but still a full day of either textbooks and research or massage therapy. When training is at full speed, there is very little time for leisure that would involve leaving the house.

“I may have snuck out for a walk, Stiles admits sheepishly. “I don't do well with sitting around and doing nothing, no matter how much Talia claims it's good for me. Used to drive my Dad crazy.”

Derek remembers Talia mentioning Stiles’ attention issues, so he nods.

“I get that. But she is right, the breaks aren't doing _nothing_ , they're part of training,” he says. “And anyway, if you're to snoop on anyone, you're better off with Cora, at least you'd learn something.”

Stiles looks at him and narrows his eyes.

“You’re both snowboarders,” Derek tells him by way of explanation.

“Not why I was out at the slopes,” Stiles mutters, and Derek frowns in confusion, but he doesn’t ask for an explanation.

He’s not even sure he was meant to hear the response, as Stiles is already looking away and busying himself with snooping through the cupboards. Derek debates for a beat whether he should also try to find something to eat, but figures that he’ll have time later. So he walks back to the couch, stretches his legs, and closes his eyes again, letting the noises of whatever Stiles is doing wash over him. He lets his thoughts wander to what he needs to focus on when it comes to training, and he tries to ignore most of the sounds that Stiles is letting out.

The relative quiet doesn’t last long.

“Hey, so, your Mom said that there’s a tournament coming up,” Stiles says, interrupting Derek’s musings. “Is that one of yours?”

Derek hums, and he nods, but he keeps his eyes closed.

“Do you think I’ll be ready for competing soon?”

The question catches Derek off guard, and he stops himself before he nods automatically. He saw Stiles in practice, but he wasn’t _supposed to_ , so admitting that he thinks that Stiles would do well in actual competition would give him away. He’s not sure if he’s ready for _that_ conversation.

“Why are you asking me?” Derek says instead, in an attempt to deflect.

“Because your Mom’s going to say no,” Stiles tells him, and Derek can’t help but smirk. “Laura and Peter would say yes just because they’d love to watch me fall on my ass for the entertainment level of it. Cora will never think I’m good enough, but she’d say yes just so she can beat me. Especially since we’re in similar categories.”

Derek glances in Stiles’ direction, and their eyes meet.

“But you’ve seen me in practice,” Stiles says.

_Oh._

“I know you have. You’re not as subtle as you think, Mr. Hale,” Stiles continues, and that’s definitely a wink that follows his words.

“I….” Derek starts, but he doesn’t know what he should say.

Apologise, maybe, for snooping.

“Look, I know you don’t like me,” Stiles says, and he shakes his head and holds up a hand when Derek opens his mouth to protest and to defend himself. “No, I know I’m screwing things up. Talia brought me in, and the schedule is all messed up because of that. Plus, I’m a snowboarder, not a skier, so I get that….”

“Stiles,” Derek says quietly, interrupting the rambling. “I don’t… dislike you.”

And wow, are the words hard to say. He doesn’t hate Stiles, but he’s also not really happy about him being at the resort. Not because of the changes, or because of their different sports.

Derek doesn’t want to admit it out loud, but he knows it’s true--Stiles is a distraction for completely different reasons. Like now, while he’s watching him waiting out the silence--his tongue darting out to wet his lips, his fingers wrapped around the water bottle in his hand, the way his hair is sticking out in all directions since he took off his hat, the way that the thermal shirt is clinging to his body.

From the first moment at the airport, Derek found Stiles intriguing. Yes, he grumbled about the disruption of their system, but whenever Stiles was near, Derek couldn’t look away.

Just like now.

“Derek?”

“I don’t hate you,” Derek says, and it’s quiet, apologetic. “I’m sorry I made you think that I did.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Stiles replies. “What with all the glares and complaining.”

“I don’t deal well with change,” Derek admits. “I know that the roster for practice gets chaotic when Mom runs the camp during off season and when the tourist season is on. But we have our own spaces that no one uses even then. Mom hasn’t brought anyone in this way in a long time.”

“I could tell her that I want out,” Stiles offers, and Derek shakes his head.

“No, that’s not….” he starts, then pauses to take a deep breath. “You’re… you’d have to forfeit the tournament. You have to be on a team for the one that’s coming, and if you left…."

“I’m not even sure Talia wants me to compete.”

“She does,” Derek says. “Maybe she didn’t say it, but she’s not blind. You are definitely ready for it. Your technique might not be flawless yet, and you’ll need to pick up some more speed, but in freestyle, you’re… well, I understand why Mom decided to coach you.”

Stiles stares for a few beats, then his mouth opens and closes a few times like he’s struggling to say something but can’t find the words. Derek, meanwhile, starts feeling uncomfortable under the scrutinous gaze, and he feels his cheeks start burning.

Naturally, Stiles notices that, and the corners of his lips curl up.

“So, you _did_ notice.”

Derek tries to shrug nonchalantly, but his face is still burning with the blush that he’s sure is obvious even under his stubble.

“You know, that makes me feel a lot better about the times I’ve watched _you_ practice,” Stiles says, and the grin on his face grows.

“When did you have time to watch me? I thought Mom was like a drill sergeant, not giving you a moment’s peace,” Derek shoots back, a little less unsettled now that they’re slipping into familiar snarking territory.

He knows how to handle that, the joking, the truth hidden in subtle teasing, the easy remarks that to someone on the outside would seem harsh maybe.

Before Stiles can reply, there’s a loud rumbling noise from the outside.

"That... was that supposed to happen?" Stiles asks, and Derek didn't miss the way he jumped right as the thundering noise resonated through the lodge.

"No," Derek says simply, but the way Stiles is looking at him, he figures he should explain. "There's a storm coming, but this shouldn't be it. It's too early. Maybe it's the crew coming to clear the trails?"

"I'm pretty sure your Mom said they wouldn't be up until tomorrow," Stiles says quietly. "The storm... that means we should head down as soon as possible, right?"

"Probably, yeah," Derek nods. "I'll go check it out, okay?"

Stiles doesn't move, but his arms are folded in his lap and he's nervously glancing towards the window. Neither of them can see anything much through it, seeing as it's not plain glass, so Derek heads out to the door. The moment he opens it, a gust of wind blows in his face, and with it snowflakes. A lot of them.

"Shit," he hisses, and slams the door closed before any more cold air gets in.

"That doesn't sound good," Stiles says from the chair he's sitting on, hands out of his lap and gripping the edge of the wood.

"It isn't," Derek says, shaking his head. "The storm started early. There's no way we can make it down anymore."

"What?"

"I'll call Mom. There's an emergency radio up here," he says and shakes his head when he sees Stiles reaching for his cell phone. "Don't even bother, there's no coverage up here. We're too far up the mountain."

Stiles deflates, and he puts his phone away, then looks at Derek with worry written all over his face.

"Is this the storm that everyone was saying will be like, almost the highest warning on the scale? Because okay, this cottage looks solid enough, but..."

"Yeah, that's the one. But the cottage is definitely safe. I've been here for a storm worse than this one's supposed to be," Derek tells him.

Nevertheless, he sets off to tighten the windows and make sure that the door at the back is closed. Stiles watches him, but doesn't move, then moments later when Derek comes back from checking the back, he takes a deep but shaky breath.

"What can I help with? Do we need to go out and get firewood? Can we even light a fire up here?"

He's glancing around as he speaks, like he's taking in the contents and layout of the cottage for the first time. There is a fireplace, and Derek knows that there's enough wood to last them the night, but with the snowfall that was predicted for the night, he's not sure if they should bother just yet. He finally finds the radio, but when he turns it on, there's only a crackling sound, and no reply when he tries to contact the main house.

"Mom's probably out with Cora," he says. "I'm gonna try in a while. There's no way they missed the thunder, she'll be checking if I'm still here."

"You."

"Yeah."

"Oh shit, she doesn't know where I went," Stiles says, sounding panicky.

"You didn't tell her."

It's not a question, because Derek remembers that part of the conversation now. And if Talia doesn't know where Stiles is, chances are that she's going to send out a search team if he doesn't come back before the storm hits the main house. The wind is picking up--Derek can hear it blowing around the corners of the cottage's roof--and he is sure now that it's the storm that wasn't supposed to start until at least six hours from now.

"We'll need to get in touch with the house," he says firmly, and he presses the alert button on the radio, knowing that the sound it makes on the other side is shrill enough that it should attract attention. "I'll keep trying. You... how are you with stacking logs?"

"In the fireplace? Or do you mean outside? Because indoors is okay, but if we're talking actual chopping of wood outdoors, I think my Dad would say something in the lines of it being a threat to my limbs. And probably everyone else in the vicinity. My coordination levels are only good when I'm on skis."

"Maybe you should strap them on and chop the wood that way," Derek deadpans, and laughs about two seconds later because Stiles' expression is somewhere between outrage and fear.

"You... oh my god, you asshole!" Stiles says, outraged. "That was not even remotely funny."

"Your face was though," Derek tells him, settling into quiet chuckles.

Just then, the radio in his hand beeps. Talia's voice comes through, but it's quiet and breaking up, so he glances at Stiles and then at the door to the storage room in the back--he knows it's quieter there and a better place for the radio's reception.

"Go," Stiles tells him. "Please let her know there's no need to rescue me from anyone but her rude and insufferable son."

Derek rolls his eyes, but doesn't bother replying. It's more important right now that he talks to his Mom. He can always retaliate later.

"Mom, Mom we're okay!"

Talia sounds a little frantic, but a little like she's already calming down now that Derek's speaking to her via the radio.

"Reception is crap. Storm hit pretty hard. We're in the crew cottage."

"I... got... Stiles... sent Peter...."

The message is broken up, and Derek hopes that she understood all that he was saying.

"Stiles is here!" Derek says firmly and slowly, crossing his fingers that she hears him.

There are a few beats where he can't hear the wind blasting around the roof, and Talia's voice comes through crystal clear for once.

"Stiles is there? Oh good, I can get Peter back in and safe. You're okay?"

"Yeah Mom, I'm fine. We're fine. The cottage is stocked, surprisingly, and we have wood in the back room. We'd try to come down, but…."

"No, Derek don't. The storm hit from the other side, you wouldn't even get halfway before you'd be in the middle of it."

Derek freezes as he takes in the words. If the storm isn't what they expected then he knows that going down the trail isn't going to be fun even after it stops. By himself, he'd risk it even now, but he's well acquainted with the trail and the forest. Stiles, not so much.

"OKay Mom, we'll stay," he says, and hears the radio crackle again.

Before the connection is lost--and the gust of wind around the roof tells him it won't take long--he tells her not to worry again, that they won't try to get back until it's calm. Talia signs off with a "be safe", and Derek walks back into the main area.

Stiles has prepared the wood in the fireplace, and he's fidgeting on the sofa. Derek now knows that the restlessness isn't just for kicks, but can read the nervousness behind it.

"We're going to have to wait it out," he says, setting the radio down on the coffee table. "It's too risky to try and go down."

"Okay," Stiles says quietly. "It's because I'm here, isn't it?"

There's a vulnerability to his voice that Derek hasn't heard before, but also a hint of defiance, like Stiles wants to fight him to attempt to go back to the main house anyway, just to prove a point.

"It is. But only because you don't know this trail, and the snow is heavy," Derek tells him as he settles back down on the couch. "If you knew it as well as I do, then I'd risk it. But...."

"But the last thing anyone needs is to have to dig me out from under an avalanche or something," Stiles says, before Derek can finish his thought. "Speaking of, what are the chances of one of those? Because while you're not the worst company to have, I'd prefer to not be buried under a shitload of snow."

"There is a tiny chance," Derek admits, and Stiles' face pales. "We're in the middle of the forest though, so the trees would slow it down. If it helps, there is no history of avalanches in this area."

"That sounds like a challenge for nature to provide a history," Stiles mutters.

They both sit quietly for a moment, but Stiles' fingers are plucking on the edge of his sleeves, and his eyes are darting around the room. Once or twice he glances at Derek, but then quickly looks away when he finds that Derek is looking at him.

And Derek can't help but look. Stiles seems to be in constant motion, shaky and uneven, unlike when he's riding or skiing. He's a bundle of energy that attracts Derek's attention. Well, more so than just Stiles being Stiles, and being attractive.

Still, Derek wouldn't say it out loud, and especially not _to_ Stiles.

He watches though, and the more he does, the more he notices. The light sheen on Stiles's lips as he keeps licking them like he's parched. The way his eyelashes seem painted on, dark against his pale skin. The way his fingers flex and stretch, then curl and tense, the way they tremble slightly. The way Stiles's chest rises and falls, sometimes a little too fast like he's fighting off panic. The way his cheeks color when he glances at Derek and then ducks his head. It's everything, and Derek doesn't know whether to be grateful for the chance to see all that or curse the situation because he can't look away.

"So, what now?" Stiles interrupts the silence. "Do we just... sit?"

Derek smiles, and realises that he probably looks fond.

"Somehow, I doubt you'd be any good at that for longer than... what, two minutes?"

Stiles frowns at him, but then shrugs his shoulders.

“I could, maybe,” he says, but he’s not all that convincing.

“There might be a pack of cards or something here,” Derek says, and he glances at the cupboards, but he’s not all that keen on getting up and looking.

“How opposed would you be to twenty questions instead?” Stiles suggests. “I mean, we’ve been living in the same house for two months, and we barely know each other. Meanwhile, I know the lyrics to Cora’s favorite songs.”

“Well that’s not hard, she sings them _all the time_ ,” Derek says, then groans as one of the songs immediately begins playing in his head.

“That is true,” Stiles nods. “I’m serious though. Wanna play?”

Derek’s heart stutters at the question, because his mind immediately goes somewhere that it really _really_ shouldn’t. As Stiles pointed out, they are pretty much strangers, for all that they’ve been around each other for weeks.

Stiles obviously takes the silence for agreement.

“What’s your worst time in competition?”

“That’s your question? Not what my best time is?” Derek smirks.

“You just wasted two questions there, man,” Stiles smiles sweetly. “Yes, that’s my question. And no, I already know all your records and wins.”

“How do you know those?”

“Ah-hah, slow down, you have to answer my question before you get to ask yours,” Stiles chides. “Seriously, have you never played twenty questions before?”

“Not since I was in high school,” Derek tells him. “And there, I answered one.”

“Rude,” Stiles mutters. “Still, That was three for you, and only one for me.”

“Fine,” Derek sighs, and he relaxes into the couch cushions. “I don’t know if you’ll count it as _worst_ , but there was a race that I never finished two years ago. Wiped out halfway down.”

Stiles leans forward, and he props his chin up on his hands.

“You? Wiped out? Tell me more,” he says with a giddy grin on his face.

“Yes, me. And yes, I wiped out. Hurt like hell too. And that’s two more questions answered,” Derek tells him with a satisfied smile.

“You suck at this game,” Stiles grumbles.

“I’m just better at playing it, and you can’t deal with that.”

Stiles mumbles something that sounds a lot like “Not the only thing I can’t deal with.” Derek frowns, because that comment makes no sense, but he doesn’t say anything. Whatever it really was, Stiles obviously didn’t want it to be heard.

“Right, so, that was… five I asked, two that you did,” Stiles says, and he pointedly looks at Derek. “Fine, ask your questions. Do your worst.”

Derek figures he might as well take advantage of the situation. There are things that he can’t look up in the records that Talia has on everyone who trains at the Hale resort. Not that he looked at Stiles’ file.

“Why didn’t you compete until now?”

“Wow, okay, no easing into it, right to the tough questions,” Stiles says.

Then he takes a deep breath, and starts talking before Derek can take the question back and apologise.

“I didn’t get on a snowboard until I was about fifteen. I used to ski when I was a kid, it was my Mom’s thing and she taught me the basics,” Stiles speaks quietly, eyes on the floor in front of him. “She died when I was ten,” he says, and looks up at Derek.

“I’m….” Derek starts, but stops when Stiles shakes his head.

“It’s been a while. And well, it’s nothing you should be sorry about anyway,” he says. “But I didn’t even want to see snow for years after, let alone treat it as something _good_.”

“That sucks,” Derek says, for lack of anything else.

“It did. But that’s why I didn’t compete,” Stiles answers the initial question. “Because I didn’t ride or ski. I still only do cross country on two skis, because… well, snowboards are more my thing.”

“Your Mom used to ski,” Derek says, realising the truth behind Stiles’ hesitant words.

“She knew Talia back then,” Stiles continues. “It’s how I got on her radar. She’s still in touch with my Dad a little, and when she heard that I was back on the slopes….”

“Your Mom’s name was Claudia,” Derek states, a memory suddenly striking him.

“Yeah. Wait, how do you know that?” Stiles asked, puzzled.

“She’s why Mom opened the resort,” Derek explains. “I mean, we all were already skiing and competing, but….”

He takes a deep breath, and tries to sort through the memories in his mind. Stiles is looking at him with expectation and confusion, a little frown on his face that Derek wants to wipe away.

“She moved us all here when I was sixteen. Cora just turned ten. Dad left. I don’t know whether it was _because_ of the decision to run the resort, or if it was something that was inevitable,” Derek frowns as he speaks. “But she talked about her friend who was a fantastic skier, and how she wanted to provide a space for anyone who had love for the slopes and for snow.”

“I think I would’ve been here sooner, if Mom was alive,” Stiles says quietly. “If Talia had this resort anyway, I’m sure Mom would have sent me here. Or moved us all.”

That’s when Derek can’t wait any longer, and he asks the one question that’s been on his mind for longer than he cares to admit.

“How long are you here for, anyway?”

Stiles looks at him and narrows his eyes, making Derek feel like he’s under scrutiny.

“I don’t think there’s an end date,” Stiles says a few beats later. “However long I want to stay, I guess. Or until someone else decides that I’ve been too disruptive to everyone.”

Derek cringes, because those words feel a little too pointed, though there’s a smile emerging on Stiles’ lips.

“I’m….”

“No,” Stiles jumps in, interrupting Derek’s attempt to apologise. “No, I get it. Don’t apologise. Especially not when you’re right to be annoyed about the changes.”

_You’re distracting, with or without the schedule changing_ , Derek thinks, but he bites his tongue to keep the words unspoken.

There’s absolutely no way he wants to blurt it out, not when Stiles has no way of even suspecting that Derek finds him interesting, or attractive, or… in Peter’s words, hot enough to melt the snow he’s riding on.

“So, whose turn is it to ask?”

It’s Stiles who breaks the moment of silence again, and Derek chuckles.

“You just did. So I guess it’s my turn now,” he says, then watches as Stiles opens his mouth to protest, then closes it again.

He nods, and Derek suddenly finds himself at a loss. There are questions he _wants_ to ask, but none of them seem appropriate for the moment, or for the situation, and especially not for the conversation they just had.

“Uh, should I be worried about what you’re going to ask?” Stiles asks. “I mean, I could make it easier for you and skip the easy ones… my favorite color is blue, I’ll be nineteen in October, I have no brothers… well, unless you count my step brother Scotty, who’s also my best friend. I’m bi, and painfully single; I’ve had precisely one crush since fourth grade. I love curly fries and got my driver’s licence when I was fifteen because my Dad couldn’t drive me to school. Oh, and boxer-briefs,” he finishes with a teasing smirk and a glint in his eyes.

Derek blinks, and his mouth opens, then closes at the images that Stiles’ last comment conjured in his mind.

“Your turn,” Stiles says, and okay, they’re not playing twenty questions anymore then.

“Red, twenty four, you already know Laura and Cora,” Derek rattles off, trying to remember what else Stiles said while his mind’s still waving the image of him in his underwear. “Single, bi, two relationships that went… well, badly is a nice way of putting it. The Camaro is technically Laura’s, but everyone besides Peter uses it.”

“And…?” Stiles _winks_ , and Derek’s heart is skipping, because that’s flirting and he feels like he has lost all his game, whatever he had until now.

“Same,” he says simply.

There’s a moment. And it’s _a moment_ , as Laura would probably say. The kind that she keeps pointing out to him in romance movies, the one where there’s tension of the fun kind, not the worrying kind.

But then there’s a bang from the front door, and a loud gust of wind, and both of them startle a little. Derek glances at the door and gets up.

“I should check the windows and doors, make sure everything is secured,” he says, and he refuses to meet Stiles’ gaze.

“Shit, I think I left the skis against the wall,” Stiles says, standing up too, and rushing towards the front. “That was probably them falling. I didn’t see yours when I got here.”

“They’re in the back, I was going to wax them,” Derek replies. “I’ll go check it out.”

“Alone?”

“There’s no need for both of us to get cold and wet,” Derek says, glancing over his shoulder at Stiles.

He’s closer than Derek expected, almost flush against his back, and it makes Derek stop in his tracks. That in turn causes Stiles to pretty much crash into him, the heat of his body radiating against Derek.

“Shit, sorry, didn’t expect you to stop,” Stiles mumbles and pulls away. “Come on, let me help.”

Derek is startled enough to nod despite his comment a moment earlier, and then he turns back to the door and opens it. They both walk out, and Stiles immediately heads for his skis that are indeed on the ground. Derek goes the other way, for the shutters on the cottage’s windows, and shuts them, making a mental note to latch them from the inside. He fights the wind as he walks over to the back, grabs the skis that Stiles is handing him, and then he latches and locks the storage shed door.

There’s nothing else to do then but to head back in. Before he closes the front door again once Stiles is also inside, Derek gives the forest one last glance. The snowfall is heavier, and the wind strong, but while he wouldn’t dare to go back out to try and get back home, he’s sure they’re going to be safe enough until it passes.

With the shutters closed, the inside is darker, but Stiles obviously found and turned on the emergency lantern. It’s just bright enough to emphasise Stiles’ silhouette as he’s standing between the lantern and the front door.

“I should’ve put the jacket on,” Stiles mumbles, and he turns around to face Derek.

They’re both only in their thermal shirts and ski pants, Derek notices. Tight on the skin, he can feel his own shirt being damp, and Stiles’ isn’t looking any more dry.

“There are spare tops here somewhere,” he says, tearing his eyes away from Stiles, and turning to the cupboards. “I need to change too.”

He finds the shelf with extra clothes easily, pulls out two shirts and grabs two towels while he’s there, then tosses one of each to Stiles. Without thinking about it, Derek pulls of the wet shirt, grunting when it gets a little stuck. In the background, he hears a noise that seems to be a gasp, but he doesn’t turn until he has the dry top on.

When he does turn, he’s met with the sight of Stiles topless, wiping his face and then rubbing the slowly melting snow out of his hair. Derek blinks, and can’t look away until he realises that Stiles is turning around. But he reacts too slow, and their eyes meet for a beat, before Derek looks pointedly towards the wall behind Stiles.

“Uh, so….” Stiles says a beat later, and Derek dares to look back at him. “What now? Back to twenty questions?”

“You may have just wasted two more there,” Derek says, and he walks over to the window to latch the shutters. “I could still find the cards.”

“And what, play strip poker?” Stiles asks, and Derek almost chokes on air. “It’s not like either of us brought money. I certainly didn’t.”

Derek is still reeling from the casual suggestion of strip poker, so he walks back over to the couch and sits down without a word. Stiles takes it as a cue to find a spot too, and it turns out to be opposite Derek, on top of the coffee table, his legs crossed and chin propped on his hands.

“So, Mr. Hale, ready to finish the questions?”

And yeah, that’s definitely flirty. Only, while Derek would normally handle that--it’s been known to happen at the resort, and he never fails at brushing it off easily--he’s at a loss now. It’s not like any other visitor hitting on Derek. It’s _Stiles._

Not sure what else he can do, Derek nods.

“Okay, so, let’s say it’s my turn,” Stiles says, and doesn’t react when Derek raises an eyebrow at him to question that statement. It’s for the best, Derek only has one question on his mind, and that is somewhere in the lines of “can I kiss you?” Which… no.

Stiles goes silent, his forehead scrunched as he thinks of a question. It’s making Derek want to squirm in anticipation and nervousness. That in turn is unsettling him because he isn’t naturally a restless or fidgety person.

“How come you’re single?” Stiles finally asks.

“Wow.”

“Dude, we already covered a bunch of stuff, I was running out of questions,” Stiles says, but he looks contrite. “But you don’t have to answer.”

“No, it’s fine, I just… I don’t talk about it much,” Derek replies. “Or ever, really. I’m sure Peter, Laura, or even Cora would answer this with something really simple.”

“Would it be the truth?”

“Probably not,” Derek shakes his head. “They think it’s because I’m not sociable. And because I’m too focused on skiing. Which, okay, that one might not be entirely untrue. It’s just, I focus on that for a reason.”

Stiles nods and waits.

“I mentioned that I had two relationships,” Derek says reluctantly, but he keeps talking. “My first girlfriend was a skier too. Paige was… amazing. Talented. Mom coached her before we moved here.”

_She was a lot like you_ , Derek thinks when he realises that there are similarities beyond just the talent on the slopes. Paige also looked similar to Stiles physically--brown eyes, moles, wicked smile. He doesn’t say it out loud though.

“Just before we moved, she wiped out during a competition,” he says instead, his eyes closed. “They couldn’t help her.”

“Shit, Derek, that’s….”

“Yeah.” There’s not much else he can say. Not much he wants Stiles to say either. They both know that _sorry_ is ultimately meaningless.

Thinking of Paige still hurts, but not as much as it did the first year after she died.

“When we moved here, Mom employed a few outsiders first. I was a mess after Paige, didn’t even think I wanted to keep skiing,” Derek starts talking again, and when he opens his eyes, he notices Stiles’ understanding nod. “I did though, because I didn’t know what else I could do. That’s when I met Kate.”

He pauses, cringing at the memory.

“She was older, one of the coaches that Mom hired. And I was so naive and young. I fell hard and fast, and let her in because she told me all the things I wanted to hear. Turned out, she was after the resort, and tried to manipulate the books to use against Mom,” Derek says through gritted teeth. “Peter caught her trying to sabotage Mom’s bindings before one of the last competitions that she was going to participate in. Safe to say, Kate isn’t going to be anywhere near competitive skiers, and especially not near the Hale resort anytime soon.”

Stiles doesn’t speak. Instead, he glances down where Derek’s hands are on his lap, and he reaches out, then looks up like he’s asking for permission. Derek nods almost imperceptibly, and then Stiles’ fingers are on top of his own, and they’re surprisingly warm against Derek’s skin.

“So, that’s why I’m single,” Derek finishes. “Why are you?”

The question is out before he realises he asked it, and he immediately wonders if he can take it back.

“A lot less horrific reasons,” Stiles answers. “I told you I had one crush. Lydia, who is now one of my best friends. I’ve been _obsessed_ , smitten. Thought I was in love, but… we never would have worked. It just took me a while to realise that waiting for her to see me as, well, anything, wasn’t fair to her, or good for either of us. There wasn’t anyone else who caught my eye otherwise,” he says, and Derek feels the way his hand trembles. “Not the way she did. I mean, obviously there are people I find attractive, hence the knowing that I’m bisexual. But feelings… I don’t know. I saw Dad after Mom died, and it wasn’t pretty.”

“Would he think it was worth it?” Derek asks, and he turns his hand until his palm meets Stiles’.

“To have had what they did, even if he lost it?” Stiles asks back, then nods. “Yeah, he would. And he got better. Then him and Melissa… Scott’s Mom… finally got their shit together and got married last year. That’s how Scott and I are brothers for real now.”

Listening to Stiles talk with such fondness about his Dad and the family that they’ve lost but then gained makes Derek smile. He wants to say something, but before he can, another noise resonates through the cottage. This time, it’s most definitely nothing falling, but thunder.

“Shit!”

Stiles jumps, clearly having forgotten that his hand is holding Derek’s. The sudden movement makes Derek follow the pull, but his balance is off, so he leans forward a little too much. Realising that he’s about to fall on top of Stiles and crash both of them into the coffee table, he overcompensates the other way and starts falling backwards instead.

When he lands on the couch, Stiles falls on top of him, and their faces end up only an inch apart. Derek glances down and his breathing stutters when he sees Stiles’s tongue dart out and lick his bottom lip.

He looks up, and Stiles is just turning his own eyes to Derek’s.

“Hi,” he says, his pupils wide.

“Hey,” Derek replies, wondering what he should do besides the one thing he wants to. “Is it okay…”

Stiles nods before the question is out, and Derek lifts his head just enough that their lips brush against each other. He feels like a cliché, but for a moment he’s afraid to breathe, afraid to move at all so he doesn’t break the moment. Then Stiles leans in, moves his lips, and Derek’s free hand wraps around his waist and pulls him in until Stiles’s legs are bracketing Derek’s. They don’t deepen the kiss, keep it slow and cautious.

Then the cottage is filled with another thundering noise, and Stiles startles, pulling away. Derek just about holds back a disappointed groan, but then he looks at Stiles with concern.

“Are you okay?”

Stiles nods, but his fingers are tight around Derek’s hand.

“Yeah. I think so. I just can’t tell if it’s snow rolling down the mountain, or thunder, since we can’t see the lightning,” he says. “Like I said before, not too eager to be buried under snow.”

“We won’t be,” Derek reassures him. “And even if we are, this space is big enough, and Mom knows where we are. She’ll know if the snow rolls. But it won’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says quietly. “I did grow up with snow, but not this high up. Not this much of it.”

Derek nods, understanding the worry. Then, in a sudden bout of courage, he smirks at Stiles and pulls him closer again.

“I guess I’ll just have to distract you better, won’t I?”

Stiles’s frown transforms into a smile.

“And how do you plan to do that?” His tongue darts out again, sliding over his lips.

“Well, the kissing was a good start,” Derek says. “I could maybe…”

There’s a beat, and then he closes the distance between their lips again, and he kisses Stiles. This time it’s with a little more urge. Instead of keeping the kiss chaste like before, he hums and then parts his lips. When his tongue slips out and slides over Stiles’s lips, he’s rewarded with a quiet moan and with Stiles parting his own lips in response.

It feels like it’s been forever since he felt this way, wanted this much, and Derek’s stomach flutters. His fingers press into Stiles’s back, urging him closer even though there’s nowhere else to go. He reluctantly pulls his hand out of Stiles’s grip, and moves it to his waist instead.

Eventually they both pull away to take a few deep breaths. Then Stiles shifts his hips, and Derek freezes.

“Is that a wax stick in your pants, or…” Stiles starts teasingly, and Derek’s cheeks heat up.

“Sorry, I…” Derek mutters, but he’s unsure what to say.

It’s not the first time he got turned on because of Stiles, but until now it was his own little secret. He has precisely zero plans to ever tell anyone about the time he accidentally caught a glance of Stiles as he was darting across the hall to his bedroom with only a towel around his waist. On the first week of his stay at the resort. Or any of the other times when Stiles did something that sent Derek’s blood rushing south.

“Are you going to apologise for finding me attractive?” Stiles asks. “Because then I should probably apologise too,” he adds.

Then he angles his hips towards Derek’s crotch and _oh_ , oh okay, that’s definitely Stiles just as hard as Derek. Instead of replying, Derek kisses him.

The next rumble of thunder doesn’t bother either of them, since they’re too busy kissing. It’s only when the radio crackles on the table that makes them separate, and Derek reluctantly reaches past Stiles to pick it up.

“Derek, sweetie, are you okay?” Talia asks, sounding worried.

“Yeah Mom, we’re good,” Derek replies, and blushes when Stiles smirks at him.

“Is it still bad up there? The weather cam got knocked down, so without sending someone up, I can’t check,” Talia tells him, and Derek grunts as he realises he’ll have to get up and check the outside.

Stiles isn’t all that happy about moving either, but he slides out of Derek’s lap and lands on the couch. Derek lets out a huff as he stands up, and tries to ignore just how tights his pants are, despite his Mom’s voice filling the room earlier. When he opens the door, there’s a gust that blows in snow, and he quickly closes it again, but not before lightning illuminates the forest _and_ the inside of the cottage. The thunder follows almost immediately, just as he flips the radio’s microphone on to talk to Talia.

“Yeah okay, that doesn’t sound like it’s over yet,” she says when he doesn’t speak. “You said the cottage is stocked?”

“We’ve got wood, we’ve got water, I’m pretty sure there’s some food too,” Derek tells her. “We’re okay to wait it out. It wasn’t supposed to last more than a few hours, right?”

“The weather channel says it’s moving fast. You should be able to get home by dinner, but since Stiles is with you…” her voice drifts off, and Derek knows that’s a sign that she’s hesitating over something.

“Look, Mom, if you think you can send someone up with a snowmobile in the morning, we could stay the night?”

“It’s only just lunchtime,” Talia says. “How about I check in with you in a few hours. And if it clears, let me know if you decide to head down.”

“Will do. Thanks Mom,” Derek says, and when he hears her say “bye” and “Stay safe” he turns the radio back to receiving, and sets it down on a shelf.

Then he turns to Stiles, who is stretched out on the couch, shirt riding up on his stomach, and looking more relaxed than Derek expected after the thunder and lightning moments ago.

“So, I hear we have a few hours to kill,” Stiles says, smiling wide. “Whatever shall we do to pass the time?”

“Food sounds good,” Derek deadpans, and glances at the cupboards. “Or really, maybe I should find the cards.”

Stiles looks absolutely offended and put out, until Derek can’t hold back his smirk any longer, and can’t stay still. A beat later, he’s leaning over Stiles and peppering kisses along his jaw.

“You didn’t even take me out for dinner yet,” Stiles says, sounding a little breathless a few minutes later. “What kind of a boy do you think I am?”

“I don’t know,” Derek replies, lowering his hips until they’re flush against Stiles’s. “What kind of a boy are you?”

“Hngh,” Stiles lets out, then turns his head to capture Derek’s lips.

-=-=-=-

They don’t get to ski down until the next morning, in the end. The storm doesn’t abate until after sunset, and they decide against braving the trail in the dark. Their first official date according to Derek is the brunch that they go for once they get back to the main house. Stiles, however, insists that the beef jerky and crisps that they found in the cottage were a legitimate meal, and it counts as the first date.

Derek lets him win that one. It’s not a competition, and yet having Stiles stay at the resort permanently feels like the bigger win, in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://froggydarren.tumblr.com/) || [my sterek fic tumblr](http://triggeringthehealing.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for "A Bit of a Fixer Upper"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11289069) by [captaintinymite (augopher)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/augopher/pseuds/captaintinymite)




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